


Element of Surprise

by Kaekoa



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angry Charlie Weasley, Angry Harry Potter, Book 2: Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Harry is a Little Shit, Hogwarts Second Year, How Do I Tag, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Mentor!Charlie, Mentor/Protégé, Mentors, No Slash, Parental Charlie Weasley, Runaway Harry, Tags Are Hard, Trouble, eventual family
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-23
Updated: 2018-10-02
Packaged: 2019-05-27 12:35:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15024740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaekoa/pseuds/Kaekoa
Summary: He choked on his tears as he started violently coughing again. The smoke was still billowing through the door, filling the room more and more, with only little escaping through the window. The room was getting too hot to stand. He could feel his eyelids drooping as he began to succumb to his exhaustion and lack of oxygen.  Mentor!Charlie NO SLASH! Independent!Harry in early chapters





	1. Intro

**Author's Note:**

> First chapter is relatively short. Not sure how good I am at this, so comment and let me know. 'tis all. Enjoy! ~Kaekoa

INTRODUCTION

The flames spread quickly through the modern home. Police, ambulances, and fire trucks wailed in the distance as the lone figure stood up, panic rushing through his mind as he realized what was going on. Desperately trying to think of a way out, he paced across the smallest bedroom. He had already checked the door, once again, to confirm that it was locked. He was on the second floor, his wand stowed in his trunk hidden away in the cupboard. Smoke was starting to billow through the cat flap in the door, and he stepped back as if already scalded by flames. Cursing himself, he rushed over to Hedwig and opened the door to her cage before bringing her to his window.

"Go on, girl. To the Burrow, you can't stay," He urged her to try to squeeze through bars much like her very own cage. He hoped they were far enough apart that she could make it through. Hedwig, the loyal owl that he loved so dearly, hooted indignantly and pecked his hand. She wouldn't leave without him, but he didn't have time for this. He stared at her for a moment, getting frantic as the smoke now filled ceiling space.

"Hedwig. I can't go with you, I'll have to find another way. You have to go! Just… hurry!" He finally yelled at her. The smoke was getting heavier by the minute and he broke into coughs as she easily squeezed through the bars, shaking out her ruffled feathers before taking off into the night. He leaned against the wall to the left of his window, eventually sliding down to form a small huddle at the bottom. He cried as he realized just how weak he was, yet everyone expected him to be the "Savior of the Wizarding World". The fire department had arrived on scene minutes ago to the fully involved house fire, and yet nobody had come to save him. This was how he would meet his end, in a goddamn house fire that was probably caused by his idiot cousin playing with matches.

He choked on his tears as he started violently coughing again. The smoke was still billowing through the door filling the room more and more, with only a little escaping through the window, and the room was getting too hot to stand. And stand it he couldn't, for he could feel his eyelids drooping as he began to succumb to his exhaustion and lack of oxygen. The last thing he saw before he was unconscious was a bright blue light.

!POP!

Harry awoke to blinding white light and groaned as he turned his head to see a blurry figure shuffling around him with jars and bottles in his hands. He felt something uncomfortable around his face and reached his hand up to take it off, only for it to be intercepted by a larger strongly calloused one.

"Can't… helping… oxygen." Everything sounded far off and faded, and his head was pounding.

Merlin, what's wrong with me?

Agitated, he yanked his hand back and tried once again to reach for the annoying thing around his face. The strong hand gripped his again, and he clearly heard one word out of the short explanation the man gave this time.

"No."

Too tired to fight, he obeyed and allowed himself to relax. His arm plopped down next to him on the sheets as the man released his hand. Everything hurt and he opened his eyes briefly, only for somebody to shine a torch into it. He groaned loudly with pain as his head throbbed even more and snapped his eyes shut before attempting to turn away from the source. Pain shot through his body as he let out a strangled scream. His vision went black and his body limp as he fell into unconsciousness once again.


	2. Overbearing Brothers

When he awoke next it was to a dimly lit room with the feeling of an oh-so-soft bed beneath him. The oxygen mask was still there, pressing into his face uncomfortably as he allowed his head to slowly loll to the right. The room was small, and most definitely not the hospital he had expected to see. There was a bookshelf taking up the wall to the left of the door that was practically overflowing with books. Even more were sitting atop the seat of the wooden chair next to the bed he was laying in, pushed against the far wall to make room for a nightstand and another bookshelf to the right, this time filled with small trinkets and intricately designed objects. The light blue wall space between the furniture was plastered with amazing posters and artwork of creatures such as dragons and winged horses.

Where was he? With all the time he had spent in and out of the Hospital Wing his first year, he knew there was no way this was a muggle nor wizarding hospitable. He sat up quickly and quickly regretted it as his chest burned. He let out a strangled groan, trying and failing to keep quiet. It hurt to breathe again, but he pushed himself completely up and swung his legs over the side before pausing to take in burning breaths through the oxygen mask. After a few minutes with nobody coming in to investigate, he ripped off the oxygen mask and stood up. Immediately, he found himself struggling to hold back racking coughs as he took in a large, burning gulp of air. Winded, he fell to floor on his knees and coughed into his fist, chest rattling and wheezing to try to breathe the entire time.

There was a loud exclamation and scuffling coming from outside the room as somebody rushed to help the boy, mumbling expletives under his breath as he replaced the oxygen mask back onto his face before trying to coax him into taking slow breaths. When he deemed him to be calm enough to move back to the bed, he grabbed his bicep and pulled him up from the ground to lead him back to the bed. The young boy jerked out of his grasp and reached up to rip off the mask once again. He was already angling his body to make for the door, but was intercepted by the older man restraining his arms from behind. His arms now pulled behind him by the larger man's, he struggled and kicked, still weak from his coughing fit, his lungs once again burning from the exertion.

"Would you just calm down!? I'm only trying to help! Stay. Still." The man behind him seethed as a heel rammed into his shin before he completely lifted the boy off the ground, pulling him closer to himself to try to minimize the damage he can cause.

Harry stilled, wracking coughs coming behind the oxygen mask, and allowed himself to be picked up and placed on the bed. Immediately curling into a tight ball facing the wall as his chest repeatedly tightened and relaxed as cough after cough coursed through his body. He vaguely became aware of the door opening and another person coming in and having a whispered conversation with his assailant before he was forced to turn over and a potion was forced down his throat between the wracking coughs. The tightening of his chest subsided and everything hurt less, though the burning of his lungs still lingered. His breathing eased, and he gave a small sigh of relief before remembering his situation. He glanced up at the man who stood before him, an angry frown present on his face, and made to sit up again opening his mouth to speak only to croak out something indistinguishable from behind the mask. The frown deepened and somebody else that stood next to him gently placed their hands on his shoulders and pushed him back down.

"You just can't stay out of trouble, huh? You shouldn't be getting up; your lungs still aren't fully healed yet. You've only been resting for a day, if you keep overdoing it they might not fully heal at all. You got burned up pretty bad. So, for now I would suggest you lay down and stop trying to take that mask off, kid. Merlin help me, I will stick you to that bed or stun you if I have to," The man lectured, arms sternly crossed against his chest and an eyebrow raised, as if to dare him to try to sit back up.

Harry, deciding it would be futile to protest, finally decided to comply. He sunk back into his pillows slightly propped up and made a drinking motion with his hand. The man nodded, and turned to leave the room to get him some water. His eyes followed him as he walked out, taking note of the well-muscled arms clearly visible from the simple black T-shirt and the fiery red hair that sat an organized mess upon his head. As the door shut behind him, his eyes wandered to the other person in the room. Another man, who looked very much like the one who had just left, albeit with slightly longer hair. Brothers, he presumed. With their red hair and features, was it possible that they were Ron's family? It seemed like it to him, at least.

His gaze rose and locked with older man for a moment before he tore his gaze away, unsure how to feel about the situation. The elder studied his face for a few moments before he turned around and left the room, apparently satisfied with what he had seen. Not even a minute later the door opened again and the stern man he had first seen was walking back in with a glass of water. As he neared, he set it on the bedside table and let the young boy get himself into a sitting position before he reached over to grab the mask covering his face.

"Okay, when I take this off don't take in a deep breath or you'll go into another fit. Just take in a couple of small breaths first, okay? Breathe for a bit, then you can try a couple sips of water. Understood?"

It seemed to be less of a question and more of a demand, but he nodded nonetheless. As the mask was taken off, he took in a few shallow breaths. After a few minutes of focusing on breathing, he was handed a glass of water and took a few small sips before trying to speak.

"Where am I? Who…?" He asked, his voice weak and breathy sounding, breaking off as he tried to control his breathing.

"You're at my parent's house right now. My name is Charlie, the man you saw earlier was my older brother Bill. You're a friend of Ron's, right? How are you feeling?"

Harry groaned, of course it was Ron's family that he had to make a fool of himself in front of. Charlie probably hates him now, with all the hassle he's been so far. He sunk back into his pillows, keeping his gaze away from Charlie's as he focused on breathing in and out for a moment.

"M'sry," he mumbled, feeling like a complete and utter idiot in front of his best mate's older family.

Charlie raised an eyebrow, curious as to what the kid was obviously beating himself up over.

"What was that, Harry?" He asked, cocking his head slightly to the side as he tried to catch the young boy's gaze.

"I said, I'm sorry," Harry said in a slightly louder mumble, hoping to not anger the man. He kept his gaze away, locking it on a drawing by the bed instead, as if to pretend he was studying it.

"Whatever for?" Charlie asked, allowing his slight confusion to seep into his question. It was obvious that Harry was beating himself up over something, and he was intent on finding out what. Especially if it had something to do with why he suddenly apparated into the Burrow's living room last night, unconscious and barely breathing.

"For fighting you… and probably making you hate me now." His gaze flickered up and back down quickly, unsure of the reaction to expect.

"Look at me." He said sternly, and Harry sunk back thinking the red-head was angry with him. He looked up though, and his gaze locked with Charlie's. Expecting anger and hatred, he was surprised to only see comfort and kindness lying behind the blue embers. Still, he had trouble holding his gaze. Flickering his eyes to the drawing of a dragon and back again repeatedly before finally settling on Charlie.

"I understand why you struggled when I tried to help you. You were confused and disoriented, not to mention in pain. It was completely understandable, and while I'm not too happy with the heel that was slammed into my shin, I am not angry with you for it. Understood?"

Once again, it seemed more of a demand for him to accept what Charlie said than to give Harry the option to question it. He nodded his head again, his gaze now locked back onto the dragon artwork. Scales as red as the Weasley clan's hair color, breathing blue flames that seem to immerse the detailed sketch in light. Going so far as to reflect in the dragon's dark irises. Did Charlie or Bill draw this, he wondered. It was beautiful, and he was captivated by every little detail. He hadn't noticed when Charlie had left. Though his head jerked up as the door loudly burst open and a familiar face came in. His eyes widened momentarily before his mouth split into a huge grin.

"Ron!" He exclaimed, promptly breaking into another fit of coughs as the burning pain returned. Ron's eyes widened and he rushed in the room to go help Harry, but this time the coughing subsided as quickly as it had started. Leaving him winded and wheezing, but still standing.

"Merlin, mate. You sound like death itself." He stated blandly, not entirely sure what to do. He didn't have to think much, though. Bill had appeared behind him, plopping his hand down firmly onto Ron's shoulder. Ron, knowing he was in for a telling off, winced and turned to face his eldest brother.

"Little brother," Bill started sternly. "I believe you were told Harry needed rest, and not to bother him tonight?"

The younger boy shuffled his feet and nodded, mumbling an apology and briefly turning to give Harry an apologetic look before taking off down the stairs. Harry looked up as Bill walked in and waved his wand over him a couple of times in what appeared to be diagnostic tests. After glancing at the parchment showing his scan results, Bill turned back to Harry.

"I'm afraid Madame Pomfrey isn't usually reachable over the summer, otherwise she would be the one looking after you. As it is, we decided you were safer here than at Saint Mungo's. But if you keep overdoing yourself, we may not have a choice but to send you there. If you just lay in bed and rest for another couple hours, your lungs should be healed enough for you to go about as normal. So, if I catch you out of bed or doing something I've told you not to, I will let Charlie stun you just to make sure you stay there like he's threatened. Am I clear on that, Harry?"

"Sure." Harry replied, slightly annoyed at his friend's brother. Bill narrowed his eyes before sighing and turning to leave, feeling slightly guilty for lecturing and threatening his youngest brother's friend. After all, what right did he have to do such a thing?

"It's four o'clock right now, dinner isn't until seven. I left some potions on the nightstand, one is a nutritional supplement that should hold you over until dinner, the other is a slight pain reliever. You can take both now if you wish. You can get out of bed at 6, no earlier. Your lungs should be able to manage some very mild exercise for now, but that's it. I'll leave you to rest. See you at dinner, kid."

Harry internally seethed at being treated like such. He was tired of being controlled and told what to do every hour of the day. It had been his life ever since he could remember. He could make his own decisions and take care of himself, and he'd prove it to them. Now was his chance. He waited a few minutes to ensure he wasn't coming back, before sitting up and downing both potions in quick succession. That done, and the pain quickly subsiding from his chest, he looked at his legs hanging off the bed. He was dressed in what had to have been a pair of Ron's pajamas. He had no clothes anymore.

Suddenly, things seemed to be bleak. Could he really take care of himself? He was a scrawny twelve-year-old dressed in a pair of Chudley Cannons pajamas without his wand or anything remotely useful to help him get out. He could barely speak without sudden coughing fits, not to mention breathe. How would he get out of here?

A sharp rapping at the window beside the nightstand made his head jerk up, and he smiled as he saw Hedwig perched on the sill. He stood up to rush over to her, only to find his feet stuck to the floor, which was now flashing yellow. He clenched his fists, immediately knowing what this was. They had booby trapped the room to let them know if he got out of bed before he was allowed. It was as if they were trying to control every aspect of his life, it wasn't fair! He barely knew them, they have no right to control him like this. His breathing was starting to get heavier as he slowly lost control of his temper, and he could feel the coughing about to come on, so he forced himself to control his breathing. Just when he was calm enough to put the coughing at bay, he heard raised voices coming down the hall.

"C'mon Charlie, you need to calm down or…" one of them began, only to be interrupted by Charlie's rage.

"Or what Bill!? If he keeps this up, he's going to collapse a lung! He's going to injure himself because he's too reckless to listen to adults and has no self-preservation! Somebody has to teach him that!" The door flew open and his gaze caught Harry. Charlie's face was red and he was obviously angry. Harry momentarily found himself wishing he could shrink away from the fierce glare being sent his way. Then he reminded himself that he wasn't just a kid, he could take care of himself without the help. He gulped and coughed slightly, then took an unsteady breath, ready for the onslaught and prepared to argue and fight his way through to get Charlie to see reason.


	3. Choleric Charlus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think, reviews are what keep me going. :)

“ _What._ Were you thinking? Do you want to die!?” Charlie seethed, stalking forward and invading Harry’s personal space. Harry leaned away, feet still stuck to the floor, as he felt spittle hit his forehead. He reached his hands up to wipe it off before roughly pushing the man away from him, glaring daggers at the older male. He succeeded in making Charlie stagger back a step, though it was more out of surprise than anything. The eldest brother standing just inside the door swore under his breath and quickly moved forward to mediate the situation. He grabbed a hold of Charlie’s arm, but didn’t attempt to pull him back.

“I’m fine, Bill.” Charlie, known for his temper when he was younger, seethed at a low but deadly volume through his clenched teeth. He turned back to Harry, who somehow still managed to be glaring at him defiantly.

“I don’t need coddling. I have no reason to listen to what you’re saying and I don’t care who you are, you have no right to keep me here!” Harry said, getting louder with each word until he was almost yelling at the end. He tried not to cough, his body shuddering slightly as small, unsteady puffs of air came out instead of convulsing in coughs.

Charlie, holding back his temper as much as he could, maintained his deathly low tone. “I don’t know if you understand what the extent of your injuries were when you got here, so let me enlighten you. You _died_ Harry. Not just once, but _twice._ You stopped fucking breathing for Merlin’s sake! Do you have any idea how terrifying that was? The only thing keeping you alive was _me._ So, _excuse me_ for doing my job and giving a shit about your health!” He turned and stormed out, jerking his arm out of his brother’s grip. Harry stood staring after him, face pale as he realized just how injured he had been. He heard Bill quickly speak a counter spell to unstick his feet and move to leave the room.

“Wait! I… I only got up to go get Hedwig,” he jerked his head toward the window, looking at Bill with pleading eyes.

The older male sighed, crossing the room to open the window and allow the snowy owl in. He watched as the owl flew to Harry and found herself a perch on his shoulder. “It might’ve helped to explain that instead of talking back, Harry. You’ll be lucky if Charlie doesn’t kill you at dinner.” He shook his head as he left the room, thinking of ways to calm his younger brother.

Dinner itself was a tense affair. Harry was the last to arrive at the table, the atmosphere so thick that even the twins were subdued. He sat down and quietly enjoyed Mrs. Weasley’s wonderful cooking. Charlie was still visibly angry, spearing his food harshly and glaring down at his plate as if he abhorred it. As they ate quietly, Ginny and the twins kept sparing furtive glances between him and Charlie, as if wondering when one of them would explode. Ron, however, wasn’t so subtle as he kept looking wildly back and forth between the two like a bomb was about to go off.

“Dinner is lovely, Mrs. Weasley. Thank you,” Harry gave a soft smile at her as he tried to lighten the atmosphere.

“Oh, thank you dear. You’re such a sweet boy. I made apple pie for afters, doesn’t that sound lovely,” Mrs. Weasley rambled. She seemed thankful for the opening as she stood up to clear room for the pie.

Charlie, however, stood up from his chair. “May I be excused,” He stated rather than asked, stalking away before receiving an answer. Mrs. Weasley paused for a moment after she set the pie on the table, sighing and shaking her head apologetically. Bill stood up from the chair next to her, giving her a peck on the cheek and thanking her for the meal before following his hot-headed brother up the stairs.

Ron turned to him immediately after the door closed behind him, “Blimey mate! How’d you manage to rile him up that good without him murdering you!?” Ron wasn’t the only curious ones, the twins leaned forward as if he had a secret to tell. While Ginny and Mrs. Weasley huffed at their insensitivity.

“Boys! I think it’s time you go degnome the gardens again.” Her tone broke no argument aside from a few groans as they stood up to go. As Harry started to follow them, Mrs. Weasley caught him.

“How about you go up and rest for a bit, Harry? Your lungs will take longer to heal if you put too much strain on them.” Her voice was soft, but Harry could tell it wasn’t a question. He politely nodded as he walked up the stairs, his jaw set in annoyance. He paused a couple of steps up and turned around.

“Err… Mrs. Weasley? Do you think it’d be okay if I stayed in Ron’s room instead?”

Mrs. Weasley glanced up at him and kindly smiled as she packed up the leftovers, “Of course, Harry. Ronnie’s room is up the top of the stairs. You’ll know it’s his when you see the Chudley Cannons posters and such.” She paused, hurriedly wrapping a plate holding a slice of pie and a fork. “You’re much to skinny, go ahead and take this along with you. Merlin knows you could use some meat on your bones.”

                Harry accepted the offer and gave a polite thank you as he turned and headed up the stairs, hoping he wouldn’t run into Charlie along the way. He paused on the second floor, hearing harsh whispers coming from the nearby room. They weren’t loud enough to make out however, so he lowered his head and quietly continued up the steps, trying to avoid the squeaky stairs. By the time he reached the third floor, he was already beginning to wheeze. Who knew that steps could be so dreadfully difficult. He paused and grasped his sides, hunching in on himself as he tried to stop wheezing before recalling something his muggle PE teacher said about holding your hands on your head to open your airway. He set down his plate on the step next to him and placed his hands atop his head and leaned against the banister as he took in a few quiet wheezes. As his breathing evened out, he gave a glance at the room across from him, thanking Merlin that neither of the men were there.

                Two more flights. He could do this. He took his time as he walked up the steps, glancing around and taking in the intricacies of the home. Such as the family pictures lining the stairway walls, or the mesh of colors that somehow fit well together and breathed life into the inanimate object. He reached the fifth and final floor and sighed in relief as he caught site of the varying shades of vivid orange that was plastered with posters. Some comical, with quidditch players dangling from their brooms with only a hand or a foot. He looked in awe at the seeker dangling from his foot, fingertips brushing against a snitch. That must be the seeker for Chudley Cannons. He wondered if he would ever be able to do something like that.

                He glanced around the room, laughing at the pile of wizarding comic books that lay across the dull orange bedspread and the nightstand. Wizards and Muggles seemed to enjoy a lot of the same activities, just with a little magic added. He piled the rest of the comics onto the nightstand before throwing himself onto his best mate’s bed. He groaned as the soft mattress welcomed him and nuzzled his head into the pillow, allowing himself to drift off for a moment.

                Not much later, he jerked awake to the sound of somebody noisily coming up the stairs. He sat up as Ron entered the room, grumbling about the twins and “bloody gnomes”. He smelled like lake water, two of his fingers bandaged.

                “Sorry mate, did I wake you?” He asked, before continuing, “Bloody effin’ gnomes. I was tossing one of the fence and it latched onto my finger. Thought I was about to lose my finger, mate! I managed to throw it off, then guess what? Fred and George decided today was a bloody great day for a swim in the pond. Snuck up behind me while I was shaking off that gnome and pushed me in!” Ron complained as Harry hid his grin at his friend’s predicament. “Mom was furious when we came in. Not because they pushed me in, but because they caused me to track mud into the kitchen. She hit me with a cleaning and drying spell she uses for _laundry_ when it reeks, and she can’t get to it right away! It was so embarrassing! And even _still_ I smell like dead fish!”

                Harry winced, remembering times when Aunt Petunia would have him stand out in the garden and spray him with the hose, complaining about how he reeked before having him stand out there for hours to dry so he didn’t get the floors wet. He was glad they were gone, he knew that the fire department hadn’t rescued him solely because they claimed nobody else was in the building. No point risking their lives if there was nobody to save, right? He sighed, wishing he had been able to rescue his trunk and wand, but happy that at least Hedwig was alright.

                “Mate? Harry? You okay? Er… Earth to Harry.” Harry jerked his attention back to the present, swatting away the hand being waved in front of his face and laughing.

                “I’m fine, mate. Just reveling at the fact that the _stench_ you’re carrying with you is bad enough to knock someone into a coma!” He smiled jokingly, and Ron pulled at his shirt neck with a grimace.

                “I should go give the twins a big hug for dunking me into the pond.” He turned to his wardrobe, pulling out a change of clothes with a sigh. “Let’s see if some soap can get this bloody smell off,” He said as he turned to leave.

                “Hey Ron, is it okay if I borrow some clothes? I, err…” He glanced down at his bright orange pajamas, letting his clothing speak for himself.

                Ron grinned and nodded, “There should be some clothes toward the back that I’ve outgrown, they’ll fit you a little better than the rest of my stuff.”

                Harry shared the grin and stood up to rifle through the wardrobe as Ron left. Finally getting to the back, he found a blue t-shirt and a pair of jeans that were only slightly baggy on him, compared to Dudley’s cast-offs at least. He turned around, folding the clothes into a small pile and setting them on the bed as he waited for Ron to return so he could freshen up. He glanced up as he heard footsteps coming up the stairs, curious as to how Ron managed to get there and back so quickly. That is, until a figure that was most definitely not twelve appeared in the door, leaning against the frame.

Bill stared at him from his spot with a stony face. “I think it’s about time you apologize to Charlie.” His voice was stern, commanding, but Harry was having none of it. He crossed his arms and glared at the eldest of the Weasley siblings.

                “I have nothing to apologize for.”

“Oh, really now?” Bill cocked his head mockingly. “So you just go around without a care in the world about your own health? You enjoy being egotistical, or is it narcissistic? You’re okay, pardon me, _satisfied_ with worrying everyone around you just so you can go strutting about believing you’re invincible.” Bill stared down at Harry, who at that moment wanted nothing more than to punch the man.

“I am _not_ narcissistic, and I definitely don’t enjoy everyone babying me _just because_ _I’m the “Boy-Who-Lived”._ I _know_ that I’m not invincible, and so what if I don’t care a damn about myself! It doesn’t make it your job to care! Did you hear that? You. Don’t. Have. To. Care. See! It’s not expected of you. So go ahead and leave now. I’m sick of people only caring about me because I almost bloody died as a baby.” Harry was panting slightly as he finished ranting. Bill’s face had morphed from one of stony, cold anger, to that of remorse and pity. He reached a hand up and dragged it down his face, regretting egging the teenager on.

                “That’s not what I meant Harry, and we don’t care whether you’re the Boy-Who-Lived or not. You’re our little brother’s friend, and you obviously don’t have anybody else there to watch out for you.”

                Harry glared, “I do a fine job of watching myself, thanks.” He picked up his clothes, knowing from Hogwarts that Ron should be done any minute. And it would take him a few to get down the stairs anyway. “I don’t need your pity.” He shouldered his way past Bill, shrugged off the hand that landed on his shoulder and started trekking down the stairs.

                “Stop.” Bill’s stern voice cut through the momentary silence. “We weren’t done talking about this.”

                Harry didn’t pause in his steps, “Well I am.”

He was happy to not hear any footsteps following him, and as he reached the third floor he was also happy to hear music playing from Charlie’s room loud enough to mask his steps. As he was almost to the bathroom, a clean and better smelling Ron was heading up. Harry gave a slight grin and a thumbs up as he opened the bathroom door, locking it behind him as he ran the shower.

                He sighed as the hot water ran over his shoulders. It felt nice to relax, if only for a moment. He contemplated what he wanted to do over the summer as he washed his hair. He could stay here at the Weasley’s. Mrs. Weasley was nice enough, but the place here was restrictive. If he stayed here he’d have no freedom, and would constantly be bickering with the eldest Weasley siblings. Or, he could sneak out and get a room in the Leaky Cauldron… No. Muggle London. If he left here, no doubt people would come looking for him. If he managed to find someplace to stay in the Muggle London, not too far from the Leaky Cauldron but not too close, they’d have a much harder time finding him. That would allow him to spend the Summer preparing for the next school year… and with his track record, the next battle with Voldemort.

                He turned off the shower, toweling himself off and getting dressed as he still contemplated how he would get away. He grinned at how well these clothes fit him compared to the cast-offs he was used to. That would be something he’d have to get, a new wardrobe. First impressions matter, and wearing clothes that were practically falling off of him wouldn’t help him get to where he wanted to be. He styled his hair as best he could, with not much luck of course. He felt loads better after that shower. If he was going to get out of here, tonight might be the best time to do so.

                He began his trek back to Ron’s room, happy when he managed to reach it both without pause, and without any breathing difficulty. He paused at the door, groaning as he saw not just Bill, but also Charlie in the room. Ron wasn’t in sight.

                “Have a seat.” Bill gestured to the bed, grabbing a chair and straddling it backwards. Charlie opted to lean against the desk next to Bill. His face was emotionless, and Harry found that he was in way too good a mood to have it ruined by whatever conversation was about to come. He glanced between them before turning around.

                “No thanks. I think I’m going to go see what Ron or the Twins are up to instead.” He started out the door, but knew he wasn’t going to make it far. Charlie would be liable to drag him back from what he’s seen so far. Always worth a shot though.

                “Wasn’t a request.” He glanced back, gauging the situation. Bill had his head cocked at an angle again, as if daring him to walk away. Charlie had pushed himself off the desk and stood, as if he expected him to pull a runner. He was smart, because had Harry not been somewhere more familiar to him that wasn’t in the middle of nowhere, he would’ve. As it was, his respiratory system probably wouldn’t let him get far not to mention Charlie looked to be in much better physical shape than himself.

                “Fine.” He bit out, plopping cross-legged on the bed and grabbing one of the comic books. Charlie, satisfied, leaned back to perch against the desk again. He studied the boy for a moment before pulling out his wand and running some diagnostics.

                “How are you feeling?”

                “Annoyed,” he bitterly responded, studying the moving sketches inside the comic.

                “I meant physically,” Charlie seemed to be making an effort to be somewhat nice despite the passive-aggressive responses.

                “Fine.” He turned the page, watching the villain land a strong right hook to the superhero.

                “Okay. Well, it looks like you’re mostly healed up.” There was a silent “ _somehow”_ lingered at the end of the sentence.

                “Great. That means you don’t have to worry anymore.” Harry closed the comic book and looked up, speaking in a monotone voice. “Thank you for your time and effort, I appreciate it.” His tone made it clear that he was dismissing them.

                Bill was the one who responded this time, “Sorry kid, not quite how it works.” Charlie followed up with his input.

                “You’re mostly healed, not entirely. And even when you are fully healed, it’ll take a bit before your lungs are back to being able to handle what they used to. Which means you’re stuck with me for a while longer. Got it?” His tone brook no arguments, but it was clear that he expected some. His eyebrow raised, jaw clenched, and chin tilted up as if to say “Arguing is NOT a good idea.”

                Remembering his plans for tonight, Harry almost nodded in agreement before deciding it would be suspicious and settling for a sulky, “Whatever.”

                “I said, ‘Got it?’” Charlie stared at him, waiting for a response as Harry looked up with his own glare, grinding out a “Yes, _Charlus_.” Charlie glared at him, for once wondering why he _did_ seem to care so much about the kid, before storming out of the room. Bill sighed in annoyance as he followed his brother out of the room. Harry finally set the comic book back on the nightstand, sighing as he plopped back to lay down.

                It wasn’t much longer when Ron came back in carrying a cot and extra blankets. “Blimey mate, I don’t think I’ve ever seen Charlie so worked up!” He continued, “If I ever annoyed him half as much he’d probably blister my arse enough that I’d be standing for meals the rest of my life!”

                Harry snorted, “Good thing I’m not you. Guess there’s benefits for not having brothers.” He cracked a smile, rolling off Ron’s bed to help fix up the cot for tonight. 

                “Oh yeah! I almost forgot,” He pulled something out of his pocket and tapped it with his wand, placing it on the floor as it grew. Harry grinned as he saw what it was.

                “Merlin! How’d you get it?” Harry rushed over to it, sliding his hand across the blackened wood. Even more relieved when the black char came away to reveal pristine wood beneath. Ron shrugged, “It appeared in the living room around the same time you appeared. Nobody paid it a second thought though, you were in pretty bad shape.” Ron shifted uncomfortably at the memory of his best friend dying on the kitchen table. “Anyhow, figured you’d like to have it back sooner rather than later.”

                Harry grinned at his friend, thanking him. He pulled out his cloak, wand, and a set of robes before tapping it to make it shrink again. He got himself comfortable in the cot and said goodnight to his friend. Thankfully, his friend took the hint that he was tired and closed the door. He said goodnight, turned off the light and curled into his own bed, falling deep asleep in minutes. Having his trunk, wand, and his invisibility cloak among other things, would make things a lot easier tonight. He closed his eyes, knowing he was well enough rested that he would wake up around two am.


End file.
